


Lose Your Mind

by TeddyBearsandBroadswords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, Darkness, Didn't mean to be evil, Evil!Stiles, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inner Demons, Lose Your Mind, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, No HEA, No happy ending this time, Post 3a, Sad, Sorry Not Sorry, You might cry, apologies on death bed, bambi's mom dies, black outs, darkness inside, derek comes back finally, ending the suffering death, non-graphic mentions of rape, not-demons, people die, reminders of Paige, sad death, stiles is consumed by darkness, taking advantage of people, this might hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyBearsandBroadswords/pseuds/TeddyBearsandBroadswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The darkness has started to consume Stiles more than the others and when he starts to black out and wake up at the scenes of desecrated animal carcasses and blood covering his body, yeah, he starts to freak out a little bit. Is there a way for him to make it out of this alive? As much as he hopes so, there's a small seed of doubt that everyone can live through this ordeal. Not this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose Your Mind

**“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear. I-I didn’t mean to...to...shit,” he mutters.**

 

.^.

 

The first time it happened, it was a Saturday. He couldn’t remember anything. It was like being blackout drunk without the euphoric effect of alcohol. The last thing he could recall, he was walking out of Deaton’s with a sinking feeling in his stomach and a tightening in his chest.

 

He hadn’t meant to drive to the Preserve. He meant to drive home and make sure the Sheriff wasn’t eating something overly greasy. _Is this how Lydia felt when she found those bodies?_ He wondered absently as he blinked around to realize that he was standing in the middle of a small clearing of trees.

 

Then the overwhelming stench of blood hit him so violently, he almost lost his balance. He stumbled, throwing a hand up to cover his nose, only to find that his hand left a wet residue on his face. He didn’t want to look down. If he did, he knew that he would be sick. But he looked down anyway, of course he did. And he was right, he was sick.

 

He turned and fell to his hands and knees to empty the contents of his stomach. He felt a  whole other level of sick when those contents include meat. Raw meat. Undigested, raw meat. _Don’t turn around. Don’t look at it, Stiles. This is not what you signed up for. Don’t do it._ He thought to himself, only to turn his head and stare in awe and horror at the mangled carcass of a deer in his wake.

 

Her neck was snapped wickedly and her body was shredded and torn open. He wanted to vomit again, but all that came out was bile. He felt horrible. How had even caught a deer in the first place? He didn’t keep guns in the Jeep and he sure as hell didn’t bring any other kind of weapon that could be used at long range. He would have had to chase the deer and catch her. Then snap its neck. How could he have done all this shit without realizing it?

 

He shook his head again and wiped his hands on the soft gras beneath him. He reached up with a red hoodie sleeve to wipe away the blood from his mouth. He stumbled to his feet and felt his knees shake so violently they almost collapsed from beneath him again.

 

“Holy shit, I killed Bambi’s mom,” he muttered to himself. He stumbled away from the carcass and walked in a random direction. He wandered for hours before he collapsed from exhaustion. He was lost. He was lost and cold and tired and he just couldn’t keep walking anymore.

 

He collapsed on an, admittedly very uncomfortable, overgrown tree root. He could have sworn that he heard pounding footsteps and shouting for him, but he was just too tired to care or respond. They would find him. Or something. He was sure.

 

And they did find him, curled up with blood still drying around his mouth and on his cheeks. With smears of the red liquid on his jacket and tears in his t-shirt. When the wolves found him, he was out cold. Scott stared at his best friend with some form of terror before he dropped down and lifted the human up. He and Isaac glanced at each other as they trekked back toward Stiles’ abandoned Jeep. Lydia and Allison waited there for them and stared at Stiles in shock as well. They didn’t ask about the blood. They didn’t want to know, they decided wisely.

 

It had been barely a month since the Alpha-Pack situation and resolution. Since the Nemeton and the Darkness and all the other bullshit that the pack had gone through.

 

After the resolution and Derek’s hasty departure with Cora, everything had been quiet in Beacon Hills. Until Stiles started to black out.

 

.^.

 

The next time it happened, Stiles was with Scott. It was a Friday. They were playing a new video game and bantering like they always had, when Stiles froze suddenly. He dropped his controller and stared blankly for a long moment. Scott tapped his shoulder lightly, worrying. Ever since the ice baths, Stiles had been zoning out at random and getting distracted easily.

 

Stiles turned to Scott with a wicked sort of grin on his face before he stood abruptly.

 

“I need to go. I forgot that I need Lydia to translate some Archaic Latin inscriptions for me. I’ll see you later, buddy,” he says, giving Scott a false grin and a manufactured twinkle in his eyes before leaving Scott’s house so quickly he left the werewolf practically shell-shocked.

 

When Stiles came to, he was in another clearing at the center of the Preserve. He was covered in even more blood than before. There was a large buck at his feet, torn open just like the doe had been. This one was older, though, a few hours at least. Stiles’ hands were shaking so badly when he reached for his phone in his pocket. Why did this have to happen again?

 

He finally pulled his phone up to his face as he dialed the only number he could think of at that moment. It rang twelve times before the machine blipped at him.

 

 _“Yeah, this is Derek. I won’t answer for a while. Say what you need to.”_ Beep! Stiles took in a quick breath before he closed his eyes and started talking as quickly as possible.

 

“Derek! Hey, man. It’s Stiles. There’s some really weird shit happening in town and I didn’t really know who else to call. Scott wouldn’t understand, Deaton is more of a brick wall than your voicemail and Isaac is just...too innocent. I guess. Anyway, I-I don’t really remember how I got where I am, because--funny story--I kind of blacked out and now I’m in a field. A _field_ , Derek. Like, in the Preserve. And I don’t remember how I got here--or where I am for that matter. There’s a dead buck at my feet. It’s torn to bits and I’m covered in blood and, please don’t judge me for this, but I have this really calming sensation of being...full. Like...like I ate the deer or something, Derek, and it’s really freaking me out. This is the second time this has happened and I’m starting to panic, okay? So, if you could check your messages or get your wolfy ass back to Beacon Hills sometime soon it would be totally perfect. So. Yeah. Um. Bye,” Stiles paused before hanging up, added “and P.S. your uncle is still a raging psychopath and he’s really been giving me the creeps lately” and then pressed the End Call button. He slid his phone back into his pocket before he knelt down and tried not to vomit.

 

He gripped his hair with his bloodied hands and let out a shuddering sigh. Scott and Isaac stumbled upon him with Lydia in tow just after dawn. They shined flashlights on him and looks him over for injuries. He didn’t have any. When they asked him what happened, he didn’t really respond. He said that he didn’t know and grabbed Lydia by the arm, pulling her out of the clearing.

 

“Why did you come with them?” Stiles asked once they were out of werewolf hearing range. Lydia scoffed and flipped her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, leading Stiles towards his Jeep.

 

“Apparently you were coming to see me when you derailed. I’m sorry that I actually care about you, Stiles, but this is getting out of hand, don’t you think?” she asked. Stiles’ body was stiff as he walked beside her. He was so lost and confused and frustrated with himself that he didn’t even notice the bruises around Lydia’s wrists or the way that she stayed just slightly farther away from Stiles than was strictly necessary. She wrapped her arms around herself almost defensively and eyed Stiles with a wary glance from time to time.

 

He assumed it was because of the blood. He was soaked in it and he had murdered a deer with no good reasoning behind it, afterall.

 

“You’re right. Sorry. It’s just...frustrating, I guess. I don’t know what’s happening. I’ll do some research and see if Deaton can come up with anyth…” he trailed off when Lydia looked absolutely sick to her stomach. He frowned and stopped walking, pulling Lydia to a stop with him. “Lyds, what is it?” he asked. She shook her head and bit her lip.

 

“Nothing. It’s...nothing,” she sighed, throwing on a masking smile. “Just thinking about how now it’s your turn to ‘wake-up’ at random places and find the bloodshed. I must admit that it is nice to have a break from always being ‘it.’” She sashayed away from him, then, throwing her hair over her shoulder again. Stiles sighed and followed after her.

 

Lydia went home and screamed and cried and didn’t tell anyone about it. She’d promised not to say anything and if a mental breakdown followed, then she would suffer in silence.

 

.^.

 

The next time, it was a Wednesday. Stiles had stood from his classroom in the middle of the day and strode out of the room, ignoring the teacher’s calls for him to return to his seat. He walked out of the building and toward his Jeep.

 

When Stiles woke up, it wasn’t completely unsurprising. He looked to his feet and saw the remains of, what looked like, a mountain lion.

 

“Hm, for once the correct answer is _actually_ mountain lion. That’s almost ironic,” he muttered before pulling his phone out again. He dialed Derek’s number again.

 

_“Yeah, this is Derek. I won’t answer for a while. Say what you need to.”_

“Hey, Derek, it’s Stiles. It, uh, happened again. I think I killed and ate a...uhm...mountain lion. This is getting friggin’ spine-chilling, Derek. Please get your Sourwolf-self back here before I rip my hair out of my scalp. Bye.” Then he hung up.

 

He paced for an hour, trying to shake away the pleasant feeling of having had a good meal. It disturbed him even more than the last time.

 

He heard Scott and Isaac approaching another hour later. They asked him what happened and he said the same thing as before. He didn’t know. He freaked out a little more than before, but otherwise he sounded like a bonafide broken record.

 

He trashed his room that night. Why him? Why did it have to be him? The Sheriff didn’t ask the next morning. He just gave his son a good ol’ Stilinski hug before leaving the house for his shift. Stiles didn’t go to school. No one asked why.

 

.^.

 

The final time it happened, the Pack caught wind of a Yeti in the Preserve. Stiles was put on research detail with Deaton. He didn’t complain. He understood the Pack’s weariness of him. He didn’t complain. But he wanted to.

 

Deaton kept throwing interested glances at Stiles as he showed him a few older books about Yetis. Stiles delved into the information like it was a life-source.

 

He was halfway through the fourth book he’d grabbed when it happened. He shuddered and looked up suddenly, grinning just slightly off kilter. Deaton turned around and raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

 

“Did you find something, Mr. Stilinski?” he asked. Stiles only chuckled, closing the book harder than necessary and advancing on Deaton. The Druid didn’t back down. Stiles laughed.

 

“Looks like I can take this stupid creature all on my own. I’ll be seeing you and the pups another time, Alan. _Catch you later_ ,” he hissed. Considering Stiles’ track record with the animals, that phrase carried a lot more meaning that it should have. He left the veterinary clinic quickly, ducking into the woods and running through them. He smelled the air quickly, catching the scent and following it with speeds that could compete with a werewolf. What an exciting turn.

 

When he happened upon the monster, it was tracking a buck. The Wolves hadn’t quite found it yet and this was Stiles’ best option. He grinned and called to the beast.

 

“Hey, Ugly! I have a way better meal right here for you!” The Yeti turned around and roared at Stiles. He smirked. “That was cute, but I can name a former Alpha with much more conviction in his bark. Maybe next time,” he said before jumping the creature.

 

They fought. It was short. The Yeti lost. When the Wolves finally found Stiles he was lounging in a pile of what was once a snow-dwelling beast. Isaac was the first to question this and Stiles had just laughed, walking up to Isaac and pressing himself into the wolf’s personal space.

 

“Looks like I’ve gained a few more skills in the past few months than you thought, doesn’t it?” he asked. There was blood around his mouth and all over his hands again. Scott and the others were so dumbfounded that they didn’t even try to stop Stiles as he skipped away from the carcass he had obviously mauled and eaten a rather large chunk of.

 

This went on, with Stiles only remembering half of his days most of the time. Lydia had almost completely cut off all contact with him and he had no idea why for weeks, but he’d started to notice the recurring bruises on her wrists and neck.

 

It didn’t completely go downhill until three months later. Where we started.

 

Stiles wakes up with a strikingly blue-eyed former alpha shaking his shoulders violently. There is a massive gash down Derek’s face and chest and there is so much blood on Stiles that he feels extremely sick to his stomach. He looks up at Derek and then down at the body beside them. It isn’t an animal this time and he isn’t in a field. He’s in a parking garage and there is a man in a business suit beside them. His chest is ripped open and it looks like a majority of his organs are missing.

 

“Wake up, Stiles! This isn’t you!” Derek shouts. Stiles jumps and reality really takes over. His body jolts and he feels himself begin to slowly break down. Derek stares at him worriedly.

 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear. I-I didn’t mean to...to...shit,” he mutters. Derek shakes him again when he starts to drift off again.

 

“Stiles! Look at me!” he commands.

 

“I-I’m so sorry, Derek. I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t,” he mutters, ignoring Derek and going on with his apologies. He’s silenced by Derek’s lips on his own. His eyes widen in shock before they close and he carefully places his hands on Derek’s cheeks. He only has a few seconds to enjoy the kiss before he drifts again and blacks out.

 

He grins against Derek’s lips, pulling him closer forcefully. Derek flounders slightly, pushing at Stiles’ shoulders and staring at him. When he sees Stiles’ eyes, brighter than normal and glowing ever-so-slightly, he understands.

 

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “Bring him back, you asshole. That’s not your body to have,” he says. Stiles giggles.

 

“Oh, come on, big boy. Is it because you want it to be _your_ body to have? To do with what you wish? Is that it?” he asks. Derek growls and his eyes flash blue again. Stiles laughs.

 

“Let him go!” Derek shouts.

 

“Don’t be so pushy now, Puppy. Your brooding nature and natural beauty might save you if you be good,” he says. “It’s like you think that I’m anything other than Stiles himself.”

 

“You’re not Stiles.”

 

“Are you sure about that? Deaton _did_ say that the procedure would have rather _dark_ side affects, didn’t he? Welcome to the darkness, Der-Bear. It’s cozy isn’t it?” Stiles is circling Derek now. Derek knows that he can’t beat this creature. Whatever it is. It’s more powerful than Werewolves.

 

“Please. Whatever you are, just...just let him go. He doesn’t deserve this,” Derek pleads. Cora lays unconscious behind a blue minivan. He can hear her steady heartbeat and he just wishes it was over.

 

“What doesn’t he deserve, huh, Derek? The power? The ability to finally prove himself _worthy_? To finally protect himself? How are those things that Stiles _doesn’t_ deserve after all this time? After all the cuts and bruises?” he asks. He steps into Derek’s space and crowds him against a cement pillar.

 

“He wouldn’t want to be consumed by this darkness. I know him--”

 

“You _knew_ him, Derek!” it shouts. “He’s not the same innocent seventeen-year-old you left behind anymore! He’s mine now!” It’s screaming now, threatening Derek with rapidly sharpening teeth.

 

“Please, Stiles,” Derek begs, looking into the boy’s golden eyes. “Please, Stiles, this isn’t you. Snap out of it.” Stiles cackles wickedly before bringing the back of his hand down on Derek’s face.

 

“You don’t even know what’s happened yet, do you?” it asks. Derek’s eyes widen slightly.

 

“What did you make him do?”

 

“We have been planning for your return for a very long time, now, Derek. It’s brilliant, really,” it begins. “To start, I went to the little strawberry blonde. I’ve always had a thing for her, am I right? Don’t get yourself too worked up, though, wolf-boy. I’m not completely evil. I’ve been dropping in and visiting her every few days. Do you want to know what I did to her, Derek? Do you?” it taunted. Derek growled. _Lydia_. “I walked right into her room and I threw her onto the bed. I would grab her wrists and bruise them, just because I could.

 

“Then, I would kiss her. I would make her feel better than she ever has before. I may have forced myself upon her a few more times than necessary, but, eventually, she accepted her fate and she might have even enjoyed it. I never raped her, of course. Because she asked me to do it. She’s been driving herself mad ever since. I made her promise not to tell and she drove herself into insanity trying to keep that oath. She won’t be of any help to you anymore. Ever.” He breaks off into uproarious laughter, then. Derek growls again. If Stiles knew what he’s been doing to Lydia...Derek shudders. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

 

“Stop this, please,” Derek tries again. “Stiles. This _isn’t you_. Fight it.” Stiles laughs another time before he calms slightly. He slaps Derek again.

 

“Get a new catch-phrase, Mutt. You sound like you run on a loop,” it sneers. “You think I’m done? Oh, _far from it_ , lamb chop. Next comes that pesky doctor. He was onto me from the beginning, I just couldn’t rush my plans. So I waited. The police will find him in his office tomorrow morning with a suicide note.” Derek roars and tries to grab at Stiles.

 

“What did you do to him?” he shouts. Stiles grins.

 

“I didn’t _do_ anything, Derek. He killed himself. I promise. All I did was talk to him and then he wanted to do it. He blew his own head off! Bang! His brain made _such_ a _pretty_ painting, though, Derek. You should see it.”

 

“You sick bastard,” Derek gritted out.

 

“I took care of your uncle, too. He was onto me and I couldn’t have him telling you before you fell into my trap, now could I? You should be thanking me. He was just another burden for you to carry around.”

 

“Why?” Derek finally asks, feeling the familiar ache of a familial loss. It twists his chest and stomach in the worst way.

 

“Glad you finally asked the golden question, Der. It’s because I want you. I need you and the only way that I can have you all to myself is to get rid of the rest of the pack. They’ll only be a bother. But I wanted to save the puppies for you and I to get rid of together. I built up my strength with _disgusting_ animals for the past few months. Just for you. What do you say? I already got the Argents. They’re locked away. Safe. For now. Nothing will stop us from this, Derek.

 

“Besides, you kissed me earlier. It’s _obvious_ that you want me too. We would be perfect together,” Stiles says. Derek shakes his head.

 

“No. I don’t want _you_. I want _Stiles_. The real Stiles,” he says. Stiles frowns.

 

“I am the real Stiles.”

 

“No you’re not,” Derek says before he shoves a silver knife into Stiles’ abdomen. Stiles’ eyes widen and the bright glow they had taken on fades.

 

“B-bastard,” he chokes out before a black fog spills from his mouth and fades as it hits the floor. Derek catches Stiles as he falls limp and holds him against his chest as he sinks to the floor.

 

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m so sorry,” he says. Stiles coughs and blinks his eyes open, staring up at Derek and down at his stomach.

 

“Well fuck,” he whispers. Derek looks down at him with a defeated expression.

 

“I had to. It almost took over all of you and it...I’m sorry,” Derek says. Stiles smiles slightly, blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth. He reaches up and cups Derek’s cheek.

 

“It’s okay, Sourwolf. S’long as you ganked the bitch, I’m okay,” he says softly. Derek doesn’t understand the reference, but he just nods and smiles ever-so-slightly.

 

“Yeah, Stiles, I got him. Or... _it_.” Stiles nods and looks down at the wound. Derek’s hand covers the hole and blood is soaking his skin.

 

“Is that my blood?” he asks weakly. Derek huffs and tries to keep himself under control.

 

“Yeah, Stiles. It’s yours. I’m sorry. There was no other way to kill it. It was part of you. It created itself with the darkness left in you from the Nemeton. There was nothing else I could do. I’m so sorry.” Stiles pulls on Derek’s cheek and Derek leans forward with him. Stiles presses their lips together and smiles up at the werewolf.

 

“It’s okay, Derek. Really. I’m okay. It’s not your fault.”

 

“It wasn’t you, Stiles.”

 

“I know. But. There wasn’t another way to kill him. I have to die too. T-Tell Lyds that I’m sorry,” he says. Derek’s breath catches in his chest. Everything hurts. “He woke me up sometimes this past week to make me watch my body defile her and hurt her. I didn’t want it to be real, but I know that it was. T-tell her that I d-didn’t mean it. Please t-t-te-ell her I’m s-s-sorr-rry,” he stutters out. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut. Derek gently sighs, soaking up Stiles’ pain through the knife wound. Stiles sighs slightly at the lack of a searing ache.

 

Stiles looks up at Derek and smiles gently.

 

“I’ll tell her,” Derek says. Stiles smiles and nods, reaching up to grip at Derek’s t-shirt.

 

“I hate to ask you this. Es-specially after Paige. B-but it-it hurts so much, Derek.Could you just. J-just end it. _Please_ ,” he begs. Derek closes his eyes as tears slide down his face. He nods and adjusts Stiles in his arms, ignoring the yelp of pain.

 

He presses his lips to Stiles’ one more time as he squeezes him and breaks his back and neck. He pulls away and Stiles’ face is too young and broken and peaceful.

 

Derek holds him for hours. How was the Sheriff going to react? Derek didn’t want to see him break. He wonders what he should say to the man as he holds Stiles against him. The boy’s body grows colder as the hours pass.

 

He wonders suddenly if his eyes would have turned blue because of that, had they been gold beforehand. Was Stiles still and Innocent? He finally decides that his eyes would have turned blue.

  
It wasn’t Stiles’ fault. He just...lost his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be working on This Might Hurt, but I had to finish this. I'll get on the next chapter ASAP, I promise! Hope you enjoyed this. Sorry it's so friggin' sad. I'm just mentally preparing myself for the worst with 3B coming out soon. So yeah. Sorry. Hope you enjoyed this or...something, I guess XD
> 
> Also, sorry for any grammar mistakes, it's unbeta'd. If you find any, just point 'em out to me, yeah? Thanks!


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